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I was about 8yrs old and had returned from being evacuated, for a weeks holiday, to Hope Cottage. A.E.Dock. There was a very bad air raid and we sheltered in the cellar. When we came out the next morning, there was a big crater where the bomb had dropped, just missing the houses.

The roof and windows of our cottage suffered much damage, and as it was old it was beyond repair. That was the last time I lived in the home where I was born.

To this day I can still hear the bombs screaming down that night, and my Aunt saying," the next one is for us", and being frightened.

No one ever mentions the pasting the dockland took, where people were living, we had a lot of incendiary bombs dropped on all the pit props, which were stacked there. I remember an unexploded one being found by my Grandfather ( Mr Walter Hunter), just near our cellar door.

I've enjoyed visiting your site, I now live in Cambridgeshire, but I'll always be a Geordie at heart.

Sincerely
Brenda Brown (nee Hunter.)

My name is Marguerite Ada Mavin. Having seen the website referring to the Wilkinson’s Factory Air Raid Shelter Disaster I would like to add what I know of the disaster and also to correct an entry which already exists on your Web site.

My mother’s name was exactly the same as mine: Marguerite Ada Mavin. She and my brother, James (Jimmy) and my sister Rosalie were in the shelter when it was bombed. I have found their mortuary records on the Web site. My mother is actually listed in the records as “Margaret� not “Marguerite� which was her correct name.

Mrs Holmes, whose aunt Elizabeth Lindores Donkin died in the bombing contacted us with the following...

These are a few lines about my aunt Lizzie, a victim of the Wilkinson's bomb
disaster on May 3rd 1941 as told to me by my mother and her brother Sid.

She was married to a soldier called William Donkin and had a young baby
Elizabeth Ann. They lived at the Pontin buildings around the corner from the
shelter. William had just gone back to the army after being on leave. Auntie Lizzie, as we knew her, had her sister-in-law Lily Ward staying with her that weekend and Lily's children, young Lily and Maureen who was a six month old baby.

My mother's other brother Freddy should have been staying with her too but
because of Lily and her family staying, Freddy was told not to go (luckily
for him, as he also could have been a victim). He sadly passed over two years
ago.

But when the siren went Lizzie, Lily and the children went into the shelter.
A witness account said that Lizzie was sitting with the baby on her knee and when she started crying, Lizzie began to walk back and forth so she gave up her seat to an old lady.

After the bomb fell and the surviors came out, Lily Ward and her oldest child, Lily, were among them but sadly Lizzie and her daughter Ann and baby Maureen were killed. Ironically the old lady to whom she gave up her seat, survived.

Sid, a 12 year old paper boy at the time was the one who told his mother
about the tragedy. The whole family watched as they brought the bodies out and took them to the make-shift morgue at the old wash house buildings.

It was the sad duty of Ozzie, Lizzie's younger brother to indentify her body
and her mother indentified baby Ann. Maureen was indentified by her father William Ward, but she was only recognizable by the dress she was wearing which had been given to her by Auntie Lizzie.

Her husband William was given compasionate leave for the funeral. Her younger brother Ozzie was lost at sea two years later in the Atlantic Crossing.

I feel proud and privileged to have been asked to write this small dedication to an aunt that I never knew, but did in a way. Her memory was kept alive by my mother who was her only sister. Now with her name in print she will be remembered always."

Mrs Oliver's grandmother Alice Nicholson survived at Wilkinson's. She was saved because a door fell on her and sheltered her from the falling masonry. She was showered with money from a till from the factory which fell on her lap.

Her mother used the shelter regularly and apparently people were in the habit of booking a seat for the shelter if you went in the day time. Her grandfather, William Nicholson was an accordion player. Was he the often mentioned musician at Wilkinson's?

Mrs Nora Sturrock lived in Upper Queen Street. She and her boyfriend George (later husband) were standing in the doorway when the Wilkinson's bomb blast flung them both into the passageway covering them in lime dust. George was one of the first at the scene.

They both knew that their cousins were in Wilkinsons. 'Sandy' Alexander Frankland was killed, Arthur survived although he was buried up to the neck in rubble and Billy was flung clear smoking at the entrance.

Mrs Heslop's mother survived the bombing of Wilkinson's shelter. She spent 5 hours in the shelter in the section where the children normally went. She recalls seeing her mother coming home to the back door of the house in a terrible state, covered in soot and brick dust.

Her father was an ARP warden. Mr and Mrs Brannen, ARP wardens in Whitby Street were family friends.

Mrs Tennison lost her sister in law, Mary Ellen Harman and her 3 children. Mrs Tennison was in the WRAF and was home on leave that night. Apparently Mary Ellen (Nellie) and the children had started off for the shelter but changed their minds and had tried to go back home. The ARP said there wasn't enough time and pushed them into the shelter.

Nellie had been baking bread when the sirens went. When Mrs Tennison went around to the house after the bombing, it had risen perfectly. Mrs Tennison identified the bodies of the children at the Bath House Mortuary. They had mauve acid burns from the chemicals stored at Wilkinsons.

Mr Hodgson was a firewatcher in North Shields. He had been out dancing and walked his sisters along to the shelter and then went on to his own house. He lost his sister, sister in law and her children.

Mr Henderson lost his grandfather and grandmother: James Henderson MN 83 and Phyllis Henderson MN 91. For some reason his family did not go to Wilkinson's that night as they usually did. He recalls possibly being at the Boro cinema instead to watch Laurel and Hardy. When air raids were on the manager would come on to the stage and clear the house. Mr Henderson was later injured at home when a bomb fell on Addinson Street in the west end of the town.

Mrs Millie Moore lost her father's brother, wife and children: the Mavins. Mrs Moore identified the bodies.

[Correction: Marguerite Ada Mavin writes that it was in fact Millie Moore’s sister in law and her children who died]

Mrs Joan Robson: survivor aged 14
One of only 5 people who survived from the central section of the Shelter. Everyone in the rear section (Smoking area) died. She survived with her mother but lost her father, 2 sisters, brother and family friends. (Ethel Germain MN 18, Edwin Germain MN 29, Ivy Germain MN 49). She was taken severely injured to Preston Hospital and then to Fenham Barracks Hospital.

Mr Lough: survivor aged 8
Lost his father (William Lough MN 38) and sister (Margaret MN 32) at Wilkinson's.
He recalls being very nervous during air raids. That night he was trying to sleep in a top bunk when the bomb hit. He remembers being almost suspended in mid air for a few seconds and then he started to crawl along the floor until he saw a flash light. He was taken to Kettlewell school by the ARP rescuers.

I was 13 at the time and I lost my friend (Edith Philips: aged 14: MN 14) at Wilkinsons. My uncle lived next door to the factory. He suffered from Parkinson's Disease and always used the shelter when there was a raid on. For some reason though, he didn't go that night. It saved his life. We lived in Linskill Street and that night I was standing with my father at the front door watching the 'fireworks' (ie the raid, searchlights, flak etc).

that night I was standing with my father at the front door watching the 'fireworks'...

My father used to work on a dredger on the Tyne and I was wearing a soldier's tin hat he had dredged up from the river. After the bomb hit a policeman came up the street holding a little girl by the hand. He asked us to take her into the house. She was in a right state. When my mother undressed her she was covered from head to toe in soot and brick dust. I remember that later, me, Dolly and Jenny Taylor took the girl along to the Hope Inn where we had been told her Aunt lived. The next morning we went up to see the bomb site. It was cordoned off. A group of miners wanted to help clear the rubble but the Rescue people wouldn't let them. The atmosphere was very tense.

Was this little girl the same one mentioned by several people, who was blown from the doorway of Wilkinson's into a pub doorway over the street? Was she called Alice Sutherst? If you know..please contact us.

photo: Mr Haydon Sharp as Batallion Drum Major (at front), aged 15, Tynemouth c1943

I was a child of six on that night. I went with my mother and brother aged 7 to the Boro Cinema in North Shields. Through the middle of the show we heard muffled explosions, but someone said it was breaking bottles, so we just continued to watch the film which was "Mother Riley and her Daughter Kitty".

When we did finally come out of the cinema, the street seemed deserted, but the sky was lit up. Out of nowhere some men came running up shouting that there was an air raid going on and that we'd better get to a shelter. Picking myself and my brother up, they ran to a shelter in Lower Nile Street opposite Parks Photographers. We passed a man lying in the doorway of Burton the Tailors. I assumed he'd been hurt. We went downstairs, the shelter was full of frightened people. When the 'All Clear' sounded we ventured out onto Saville Street. Wellington Street had been razed to the ground and was burning.

We walked along picking our way among the rubble and headed home. We passed the allotments on Howdon Road, the fencing was burning just a few yards from the Gasometer. Friends of the family who lived by the gasyard were evacuated to our house until everything was cleared up.

After the bombing of Wilkinson's, all the debris was used to fill the burn in which ran down Red Burn View where we lived. I remember scrambling over the debris and finding lots of household items: knives, forks, spoons also lipstick and rouge and millions of bottle labels. It seems like yesterday.

"I am 92 years old now. At the time we lived quite near the shelter. My mother, Mrs M Forrest was a volunteer and was on duty that night when the bomb fell on Wilkinson's shelter.

Her station that time was at Northumberland Street Mission. She went to the shelter and gave help to the few who were alive. They were taken to the mission, a bed was made and food was given to each one. When it was daylight she took some of the survivors home. One was an 11 year old boy. His mother and grandmother had slept through that bombing being drunk! They only lived a few doors higher up the street. It was amazing how anyone got out, as there was heavy machinery in the shelter."

I always felt that my mother and the other helpers should have had some recognition. But in those days we kept each other.
[Mrs Ford interviewed in 2000]

I was six years old in the March of that year and my father came home on leave in the May, just in time for the bombing. When the sirens went we went to our own shelter which was in the yard. Father was not happy with this because he felt that we were too near the river and that the bombers could be trying to get the shipping. He decided that we should move to a shelter away from the bank top and he chose Wilkinson's.

An air raid warden stopped father and told him that the shelter had received a direct hit about ten minutes before...

So my parents and our neighbours set off for Wilkinson's shelter with my father carrying me. At the bottom of King Street, the air was full of dust and the smell of wall lime. Even today when I pass an old building being demolished that smell of lime dust takes me back. An air raid warden stopped father and told him that the shelter had received a direct hit about ten minutes before.

It had been the habit of my cousins the Franklands to go to Wilkinson's because it was more fun to be with a crowd than in their own shelter at home. Father and mother knew many of the people that used Wilkinsons and they at once feared the worst. Mother and I together with our neighbours were sent to Northumberland Street Mission Hall which was used as a collection point for the rescued. Father was in uniform and at once began digging for his sisters and nephews. I saw the injured come into the Hall covered in dust and shocked. Some were children I went to school with.

Cousins Arthur and 'Sandy' Frankland had been in the shelter. Sandy died and Arthur was saved but Arthur was never the same again.

I do not think that children of my age fully realised the horror because two or three days later I and my school friends were out again looking for shrapnel in the streets.

Rose was a 22 year old nurse working at Hexham Hospital. She recalls many survivors being brought in by ambulance, most of them with horrific acid burns caused by the chemicals used in the factory. She and other medical staff worked for days in treating the injured. Mr Rutherford was the Doctor/Surgeon in charge.

"My grandfather's brother was in the explosion at Wilkinson's and was supposedly blown through the roof with the blast. He was very badly disfigured and was henceforth in and out of Preston Hospital. His name was Robert Reaveley..."

Lilian needs more info about Robert. Can you help?

Karen kindly provided the following account after visiting the website.

My Dad, Dennis Lewiss Watson was a survivor of the bombing of the factory along with his mother Ellen Watson and, sister Maureen. Dad lived in Reed Street, North Shields.

Dad was 3 years old at the time, so he passed on only vague recollections. I do remember Dad telling me that a man was killed instantly - he had swapped places with my Grandma and Dad giving them his bottom bunk bed, so that he could be next to his family.

I often wonder if Mrs Lee helped my Dad & his family to safety, regardless, Mrs Lee deserves recognition for her bravery.

My Dad kept in touch with a childhood friend of his, Raymond Lough, who lost family members in the bombing. Ray still lives in North Shields.

photo: Dennis Watson: age 19 courtesy: Karen Robinson

My Dad brought us to New Zealand in 1973 when I was almost 6 years old.(Ironically we lived in George Square, North Shields prior to emigrating). Family history has always been very important to me, my Dad told me about the bombing & how he was lucky to have survived when so many lost their lives. I only wish Dad had been able to see the Web site. Dad passed away on 19th September 1998 after a long battle with Lung Cancer. Mam (Hilda) took Dad "home" to be buried at Preston Cemetery next to my Grandparents.

The only remaining member of my Dad's family who was in the shelter that tragic night, is my Uncle Raymond, I do not really know him. He still lives in North Shields.

Thank you for providing this web site, it has given my family an "insight" to part of our Family history & that of so many other families in North Shields. We are so lucky in this so called "peace time" & take so much for granted. It is important that we all acknowledge the devastation that war creates. May it continue to provide an insight for our children!

Boys having fun: Fish Quay Sands, North Shields c1943/4
Dennis (aged 5-6) is pictured third from the left just above the boy (Jimmy Duck) being pulled along on the go-cart (bogey).The boy pulling the cart is William Taylor aged 8?
photo: courtesy Karen Robinson.

Mary kindly provided the following account after visiting the website.

Let me try to put some thoughts down about life in North Shields during the war. I was born in North Shields, an only child, my parents were Jane Henighan (nee Turner) and Joseph Henighan. My father was in the Royal Navy, so like many other children, my father was just a photograph on the wall. My mother was from a large family (one of nineteen). We lived on Little Bedford Street, as did my grandmother (maternal) and two of my mother's brothers and a sister. I attended St. Cuthberts School on Albion Road.

1941 was not a very good year for our family - on February 18, 1941, my father's youngest brother Eddie (aged 22) was a casualty on board the S.S. Black Osp that was torpedoed off the Irish coast, also on board was my mother's oldest brother Bill (aged 45), the priest came to my grandparents' house to break the news. Then 11 days later, March 1, 1941, the priest came to visit again, my father's second youngest brother Albert (aged 25) had met the same fate in the same place, on board the S.S. Eff. They were merchant seamen doing the North Atlantic run, Canada to the United Kingdom, they were in convoys bringing essential supplies back home. The Royal Naval vessel my father served on was torpedoed, but he was one of the lucky ones.

From inside our shelters we heard the bomb explode, and I remember my grandmother saying it was very close...

These memories are still quite vivid, even though I was only five, there are some things that stay with you always. I couldn't understand why everyone was so upset, but I knew it was something bad. Of course with no bodies there were no funerals, which meant no closure, my relatives had a hard time dealing with this. As children, we were able to bounce back to normal within a couple of days.

Then came Wilkinson's shelter disaster.

The reason I remember it so clearly is because my aunt and uncle lived on Queen Street, with their three children, and the night of the disaster my uncle Peter ( who worked at Tyne Dock, South Shields) was out at work, leaving his family at home. My two uncles (Albert and Alex) who lived next door to my mother were still at home (one worked at Smith's Dock and the other on one of the tugs on the Tyne). They were both ARP Wardens, and as soon as the siren sounded they were down on what we used to call the bank top at the end of Little Bedford Street, which overlooked Clive Street and the river.

From inside our shelters we heard the bomb explode, and I remember my grandmother saying it was very close, she thought it was down on one of the shipyards. Then my uncles came in and said there had been a direct hit on Wilkinson's Shelter, and they had been told to go over to help with casualties, the ironic part was they had forgotten that my aunt and her children used Wilkinson's shelter.

My two uncles described the scene as something they would never forget for the rest of their lives. They were lined up outside the shelter passing bodies, or in some cases pieces of bodies, as they were being dug out from the rubble. My uncle Peter was one of the lucky ones, his wife had arrived at Wilkinson's shelter and had been told it was full when she got there, so she left and headed to another shelter. My mother's relatives who were killed in the shelter were a family by the name of Chater, they were cousins of my mother's. I didn't know much about them. The feelings of my relatives after the disaster were hard to determine, as they went on about their business, as normal as possible, and kept things to themselves. Of course, it could be that the bad things about the war were not discussed in front of children. Most of the information I gleaned from the odd discussion I heard about the war, was when I was older. They just didn't talk about it.

I was 13 at the time and we lived at 23 King Street: Wilkinson's was just over the road. We used the shelter often but very luckily not that night.

My father was in an exempt occupation - he worked for the gas company. I remember he told my mother that if there was a raid that night she was to take us into Wilkinson's for safety. When the sirens went my mother decided to stay in the house. She didn't want to go to the shelter because with it being a saturday night she knew there would be music on. She didn't like the accordion music. It kept her awake.

"We used the shelter often but very luckily not that night..."

Instead we hid under a table in one of the bedrooms. Right after the bomb hit we ran over to the shelter but the doors wouldn't open. We knew straight away that it was a disaster.

I remember Mrs Lee the ARP woman. She was a big, nice lady. We called her Tessie O'Shea. I think she got a medal. The soldiers at Kettlewell School came to help. Our friend, Anne Lloyd lived right next door to Wilkinson's, she was fine. My uncle still lives in one of the council houses they built on the site of Wilkinsons.

Before going on duty as a member of the Auxiliary Fire Service I had been paying a visit to a relation in Linskill Terrace, North Shields. On cycling to my station in Percy Main where we had commandeered the St. John Ambulance hut, I heard what I took to be a bomb. The next thing I was blown off my bike (luckily un-hurt) picked myself up and continued on my way to duty.

Mr T.R.Hall in Auxiliary Fire Service uniform c1941

When I arrived at my station it was then I learned the fatal news. I often wonder if I should have stopped to investigate what had happened. When discussing the event afterwards we all agreed we could never see the logic of turning the basement into a shelter bearing in mind the heavy machinery on the floors above...

"I was 13 then. I was dragged to the shelter every time. I couldn't get out of bed. I was a lazy girl. Me mother...used to stand over me, pull the clothes off and at the finish used to say, 'I'm going out for the Polis'. And he used to yank me out. He used to say 'You're the only one around here who won't get out of bed.' I didn't get dressed (to go to the shelter) I had my pyjamas on all the time.

Me mother never took me to the shelter. It was the Polis. She used to go mad. We lived a block up from Wilkinsons, in Church Street. We hadn't got a shelter in our house. Nothing. We went to the shelter with my Aunt and her family. One of her daughters, her fiance was with my brother in the smoker's room. He went (was killed) as well. Nice young man about 22. It was a stray bomb...we'd been in the shelter for a couple of hours or so...me Mother and Aunt were talking across me when all of a sudden I said 'Be Quiet'. I heard the whistle. Didn't know what it was. That was it. The smoker's room was on the top, with the machinery. The women and children were downstairs. I was in the corner...with my mother and auntie either side. I never even had a scratch. They had bricks on their back, everything. Wound up in hospital. My brother was in the smoker's room, where half the men went.

I heard the whistle. Didn't know what it was. That was it.

I can't remember a lot about the rescue...Mrs Lee (an ARP warden) she was there everywhere...helping everybody. She was outside all the time when the bombs were dropping to see everyone was all right. She was great, better than the men. She saw everybody in. I don't think that woman had a nerve in her body. I was trapped for six or seven hours. It was the next morning. There was a hand in front of us...pulled us out. That was it. I just wandered away. I was in a stupor through it all. Not unconscious...I was awake. I wandered off a mile away down to where the Royal Quays are now. A policeman found me and took me home. My mother and auntie were in hospital, so I went in to an empty house. Of course they were out the next day...with back injuries. She was ill a long time me mother. I had to stay off school to look after her."

I lost 7 members of my family that night at Wilkinson's. I was 23 at the time. I lived at 24 Hylton Street and during raids I would often use my mother's brick shelter at her house in Little Bedford Street. Fortunately, I never used the Wilkinson's shelter.

My relations had really bad luck. Their house had been damaged in a raid - the windows had been put out. They decided to move in with my uncle and aunt who had a five bedroomed flat above Atkinson's the Fruiterer at 66 North King Street. When the alert sirens went my uncle said that they all had to use Wilkinson's as there was only enough room for 3 people in his yard shelter. It was their first time in that shelter. 9 people went and only 2 came out alive.

I lost 7 members of my family that night...9 people went and only 2 came back...

Mrs Lee the ARP warden was my aunt. She was a lovely woman and we all called her Nellie. I remember she came to our house on the Sunday - she looked terrible. She told us that she had found my grandmother (Emma Curran: MN 34) but that she hadn't suffered, she'd been killed instantly. And then the police came and we found out about the others. (William Curran: MN 52, Agnes Smith (daughter): MN 6, Maureen Smith (grand daughter): MN 20, Veronica Smith (grand daughter): MN 9, John Glynn (son in law): MN 58, Margaret Glynn (grand daughter): MN 35). We just couldn't believe we wouldn't see them again. The two survivors (Evelyn Curran (daughter) and Anne Glynn (daughter)) were both taken to hospital at Hexham. My mother and brother went to organise the funeral.

Dad (Redvers James Rose) was born November 28, 1900. He was in the Royal Navy as a boy of 16 in World War I. Before that he was on the trawlers at 14 with his father. He served most of his life in the Merchant Navy. Owing to having a kidney removed he was not accepted in the forces in World War II. His age was also against him. He worked at the Tyne Brand factory cutting up frozen meat. When he got home he put on his ARP uniform and walked to his billets in Military Hall in Military Road in North Shields. Mum used to take him his tea in a can and something to eat. The hall was all bunk beds.

"I remember there was not a sound while the men worked..."

Redvers James Rose in ARP jacket, 22 August 1940

Dad was almost on the doorstep when the factory was bombed. We heard the blast it was so close and lost a few windows. My cousins lived in Queen Street. Three young boys around 11 to 14. Dad worked non-stop looking for bodies hoping against hope our cousins had survived. Dad found Alexander (we called him Sandy) sitting up with not a mark on him (Alexander Frankland: MN 69). My other two cousins had head injuries. They lived to have a family but did not live a long life. The surname was Frankland.

I was aged 14 and was at home with my mother Maria Binks and sister Sheila (17 years) and baby brother Jimmy (18 months). When the sirens went off and mother tried to get us off to the shelter, Sheila wouldn't get up out of bed and said she wouldn't go to Willkinson's shelter, hence none of us went and we stayed in the back yard shelter in Norfolk Street.

Tragic loss of 6 family members...

My Aunt, Martha Hall: MN 70 and her five children, our cousins, John Alfred: MN 22, Sydney: MN 14, James: MN 13, Shirley: MN 53, and Alfred: MN 50 were all killed in Wilkinson's shelter.

Their father, my uncle, John Alfred Hall was at sea with the Royal Navy and never recovered from the shock. He never remarried and never had any more children.

I personally never went into the shelter but my Aunt Martha was in the musical section which is where she always went as there was an accordion player there. Wilkinson's shop where they sold lemonade was on Albion Road. People thought that the shelter would be safe because it had a concrete floor, but I know there was a lot of heavy machinery on the floor above.

photo: 4 of the Hall children: courtesy Mrs Shaw.
The photograph shows from left to right: James, Shirley Anne, Alfred and John. The missing one is Sydney who wouldn't have his photo taken.

"I was Mildred Cook then. We, me sister aged 5, me brother 7, and I was 14...we had to go up and stay with me mother's twin sisters in Queen Street, while me mother was away. We stayed in Queen Street, the next street to where the bomb was.

Put that bloody match out....

My mother and I didn't usually go to this shelter because we lived down Linskill Street. We just went there an odd time - just to see her sisters. My aunties had a strong shelter in their back yard but they used to go to Wilkinson's because it was an entertaining evening. They used to play bingo or cards. It was sort of like 3 bays in the shelter. There was a place where people went to smoke, a place for the young 'uns, a part for sing-alongs. There was a guy who used to play the accordion.

A friend of mine was called Frances Chatterton. We both went to school together. We used to play with the children. As I recall, I had just gone on top of a bunk - then all of a sudden it was dead silent and black. I had no warning. I couldn't tell what was going on outside. It just went...like putting the light out. Frances shouted 'Millie' and dragged me off the bunk and just then the bunk collapsed. She still jokes about it, 'Millie I saved your life'."

Albert Lee aged 17 was in the shelter and survived the disaster.

"My mother (Ellen Lee) was the ARP warden in charge of Wilkinson's air raid shelter. So, naturally we used the shelter every time there was a raid on. That night I was in the shelter with Hilda, my sister.

We were sitting on the bunks in Room No 1. The shelter had a lot of people in it but it was fairly quiet, no music, just people chatting. When the bomb hit I heard a dull 'bonk' sound. Then everything went black and people started screaming. I shouted 'Don't strike a bloody match' - I was thinking there might have been a gas leak.

I'm immensely proud of what my mother did...

And then my mother told everyone to follow her torch light. The exit was blocked but she just shoulder charged the wall until it gave way. She got over 30 people out. I was unharmed but my sister was in a bad way: she had a big wound in her side and a broken arm and leg. My father didn't even recognise her when he came to Kettlewell school where the injured were taken. The woman sitting opposite me...well, there wasn't much left of her."